


Another Word For Lacking

by messier51, yellowturtle



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergent, Gen, attempted suicide, talking car
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-12
Updated: 2013-11-12
Packaged: 2018-01-01 01:33:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1038755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/messier51/pseuds/messier51, https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellowturtle/pseuds/yellowturtle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set at about the same time as 9.06. Dean finds an AI system in the MoL Bunker, and Sam and Dean finally get a chance to bring Cas home. Things get a bit not good. </p><p>(PLEASE READ the warnings/tags: This is NOT a happy story. Sorry.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Word For Lacking

_Castiel's whole body feels like the inside of an exploding star, and blinking doesn’t help clear his vision at all. Dean must be worse off; although Cas can’t figure out how he inserted himself into the path of the blast from across the room. Cas crawls haltingly on shredded elbows and knees towards the spot where Dean collapsed a moment ago. “D-,” he tries, but makes no sound. He coughs up blood, tries again. “Dean.” It comes out part whisper, breaking into a feeble croak. As Cas cradles the familiar head against his chest, his hands numbly scrape over Dean’s face, neck. They find no pulse._

_That dumb son-of-a-bitch._

_He’s still half-conscious when he notices motion on the edge of his vision. Cas knows the lightning goddess is still there, gathering latent power for her next strike. His fingers can’t grasp anymore but he tightens his arms around Dean’s wrecked corpse._

_“Sam,” Castiel gasps out roughly, infusing every last drop of celestial authority he owns into the order;_

_“Run.”_

  
  


* * *

It's something he's been tinkering with since they discovered the garage in the batcave--one of the old cars had an AI system; lets the car talk to you. The Impala’s always spoken to Dean, but while Kevin’s translating and Sam’s reading through lameass language encyclopedias, he’s enjoying the chance to mess with his car again. Plus, he’s curious what she’ll say when given the chance to talk back. 

Turns out, she sounds a bit like an excited puppy with the diagnostic skills of a master mechanic and the emotional maturity of a three-year-old. Dean falls in love all over again, almost instantly. 

It doesn’t hurt that her first words are, “HELLO DEAN!”  (Quickly followed by “DEAN I THINK YOU NEED TO CHECK MY OIL.”) 

When he takes her for a drive, she asks, “DEAN CAN WE LISTEN TO SOME ZEP TODAY?” and says, “I THINK YOU TOOK A WRONG TURN BACK THERE!” 

“THAT CLOUD OVER THERE LOOKS LIKE A MACHETE DEAN.”

“ISN'T IT A NICE CLOUD?”

The first time she meets Sam (“HI SAM!”) he laughs at her exuberance. Sam wastes no time launching into a boring interrogation about “what’s really necessary” and “what’s so different about the AI from an iPod or a GPS” and Dean just shakes his head, because Sam  _obviously_ doesn’t fucking get it. 

The Impala’s got his number; “DID SAM EAT LENTILS FOR LUNCH AGAIN?” but Sam actually breaks out into a guffaw at “DEAN, THERE'S JUNK IN MY TRUNK.” 

Most of the time the Impala’s suggestions are useful (“COULD WE STOP FOR GAS?” and “DEAN MY IGNITION TIMING IS OFF”) but she’s also opinionated (“DEAN THAT POTHOLE WAS AWFUL”). She almost seems to grow wary of the lulls between Sam and Dean’s loud bitching--as if her new voice might be devoured by the unfilled silence.

“DEAN DO YOU REMEMBER THAT TIME WHEN THERE WAS A DEER?”

“IT WAS A GREAT DEER.”

  
  


* * *

When Sam opens the door, he’s greeted with the familiar “HELLO DEAN!” before he sits down and the Impala registers a different driver. The ensuing “HELLO SAM!” might seem somewhat less enthusiastic, but that’s just his imagination.  _A car doesn’t get disappointed because of…._ He exhales a slow, shaky breath before putting the car in gear.

Sam drives home alone. He tries in vain to ignore the Impala’s constant (and confused) chatter for the remaining eight-and-a-half hour drive. 

“SAM WHY DID DEAN STAY BEHIND”

“SAM WE SHOULD GO BACK”

“SAM WHY DIDN’T DEAN COME WITH US”

“TRAFFIC PATTERNS SHIFT AHEAD PLEASE DRIVE WITH CAUTION”

“ARE WE GOING TO PICK UP DEAN TOMORROW?”

“DID CAS STAY WITH HIM?”

“SAM WE NEED TO STOP FOR GAS” 

“SAM DO WE NEED TO TURN AROUND FOR DEAN?”

“WE SHOULD LISTEN TO SOME METALLICA”

“DEAN SHOULD NOT HAVE STAYED BEHIND”

If Sam slams the door a little too hard when he gets back to the bunker, it’s not like Dean can yell at him for it. 

  


_They weren’t on a hunt. Sam still hadn’t quite figured out exactly which question he was supposed to be asking about Dean’s odd behavior yet (or more to the point--which question Dean was **willing to** answer about his odd behavior). But it had suddenly seemed to be a thing of the past. Whatever it was, the invisible burden had been lifted from Dean’s shoulders. Three days ago, they’d set out (“Kev, just make sure to call us if anything goes wonky. You know the drill. No playing with demons while we’re out, kiddo.”) They were just going to pick up Cas and bring him home. Dean looked almost giddy (well, he was), and less worried than he had in… hell, in years. _

  


On his way down to the dungeon, Sam stops to write a note. Kevin is asleep, it’s one small blessing (for whatever those are now worth). He finds a syringe, grabs the demon killing-knife. Checks his gun. The Men of Letters Bunker is on consecrated ground; it's part of the elaborate weave of protections on this place. 

  


_Cas had almost refused to come home at first. Sam’s not quite sure what the looks exchanged between him Dean mean but they always seem to work things out. Cas had the honor to meet the new and improved Impala (“HI CAS!” -- “...Hello. Dean, has your car always spoken or am I hallucinating again?” “Cas, meet Baby. Again. She’s awesome, check this out…” and “CAS YOU SHOULD WEAR A SEATBELT PLEASE, EVEN IN THE BACK SEAT!” with Cas’ quiet response of “Thanks.”) and they were on their way. Going home. It sounded good to Sam no matter how often he thought of it--because comfortable mattresses don’t define home the way having your family around you does._

  


Everything else they've done is useless, he's going to finish the one thing that might  _actually matter_.  Crowley seems surprised, and gets in about half of a snide comment (“This again, Moos--”) before Sam slaps the duct-tape into place. Sam is clinical about the entire eight hour process. His voice almost cracks on the final syllable of the exorcism, but it doesn’t. The enochian spell that comes after brings back every ache and pain from the year before, and Sam welcomes death. He doesn’t get a chance to use the gun on Crowley before collapsing, but that was in the note for Kevin--and Crowley’s not going anywhere. 

  


_It was habit to grab local newspapers when they stopped for lunch, and the story on the second page caught Sam’s eye immediately. Half an hour later they were suited up--Cas in one of Dean’s suits, almost too tight in the shoulders, the hem of the pants rolled up inconspicuously to hide its two extra inches--standing inside a local bakery asking the customary array of questions. In another four hours Dean was lying on the ground of a condemned motel building with no pulse; Cas convulsing and struggling to breathe underneath him. The look in Cas' eyes was wild when he told Sam with his last gasps of air to "Run," and Sam did. He stopped barely long enough to set the motel on fire on his way out; a Hunters’ Funeral writ large for the world to see._

  


Sam’s sure the surprise on his face mirrors the look on Kevin’s when he wakes up alive.  _One more thing Metatron lied about, the bastard_. Shoving Kevin (...almost gently) out of the way, he picks up his gun and finishes the job. 

  
  


* * *

Shutting the gates of hell eliminates all demonic omens overnight. The angel problem is a little more difficult, but Kevin is working pretty hard on it. They’ve had limited success at setting up the bunker as a central nervous system for hunters--the way it  _should_ be.

The cheery, “HELLO DEAN!” when he opens the Impala’s door has Sam slamming it shut almost immediately, the first few times. 

No one but the Impala will ever know about the tears. When she skipped over her normal greeting for, “DEAN I THINK WE SHOULD GO CHASE FIREFLIES,” it was all Sam could do to sink into the driver’s seat and hug the wheel. Afterwards, he actually talks to the car. Her programming is pretty amazing for a relic in the bunker, and she registers that Dean is no longer going to be driving in the future. There’s solemn acknowledgement between Car and Man, and Sam would almost laugh--but then, she’s family too.  

She chooses to blast Guns and Roses at weird times, and when Sam tries to turn the volume down she just turns it back up again. He never even once considers removing Baby’s voice. 

Sam moves out of the Bunker and into a real house. He even knows some of his neighbors in Lebanon now. It’s still not quite a home, but he’s thinking about getting a dog. 

Most days, the Impala is quiet. Yesterday on their way home from the bunker she asked, “SAM, IS THERE ANOTHER WORD FOR LACKING A PART THAT ISN’T REQUIRED FOR FUNCTIONING?” 

And she still whispers “Hello Dean” whenever someone opens the driver-side door, but Sam can only hear it because he’s listening for it. She’s hoping for something, and, maybe, he’s hoping a little bit too. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is a product of Meta Saloon love <3 To all of you: thanks for listening to me complain about [Turtle](http://archiveofourown.org/users/yellowturtle)'s super evil story idea that I couldn't leave be. I'm so, so sorry. 
> 
> Extra thanks to [Ella](http://archiveofourown.org/users/hubrisandwax) added some lovely dialogue for the Impala!


End file.
